


Birds of a Feather

by fictionfrek101



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, At least for the last two movies, Cousins, Drama, F/M, Family, Female Friendship, Fix-It, Friendship, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mermaids, Mythology - Freeform, Parental Issues, Pirates, Religious Content, Romance, Song Lyrics, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, relationship drama, unhealthy father-daughter relationship, we're talking about Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17904719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionfrek101/pseuds/fictionfrek101
Summary: When cousins Philip Swift and Elizabeth Swann make the crossing from England, their lives are changed forever when they find a boy by the name of Will Turner. But when Elizabeth is kidnapped, the boys are forced to team up with Jack Sparrow, and a mermaid named Syrena who might just hold the key to Philip's heart. Basically Philip and Syrena join in the first 3 movies.





	1. Prologue: On the Fins of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted the first 16 chapters on fanfiction.net. I also sporadically update this as this is my back burner project. I intend on writing all five movies, but updates will likely not be regular,

Birds of a Feather

**The Curse of the Black Pearl**

_Prologue_

On the Fins of Fate

* * *

_Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the LORD thy God, he that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee._

Gripping the old weathered book, Philip Swift's eyes ran over the passage again. The brown leather covering was worn, though the impressed image of a cross still remained. There were many places that had been hardened by now ancient splashes of water, and a few dozen of the delicate pages had been dog-eared. Throughout the book there were markings on the pages, some were notes about the scripture, others marked favourite passages, and a vast majority were connected to other verses to form various kinds of sermons.

This bible had quite literally been through hell and back. Through sickness and famine, safety and danger, from the chapels of London to the jungles of Africa. The book told as much about the travels of its owner as it did about itself.

But the one thing that stood out the most was the bloodstain on the back cover, a testament of the owner's death at the hands of the so called savages he had tried to convert.

Philip stared at the passage again; it was Deuteronomy 31:6, the tale of Moses. The young thirteen-year-old couldn't help but smile at the similarities between his story and the one of Moses. Sent from the banks of Egypt into the home of the Pharaoh, Philip too had been taken from the shores of Africa as a baby and raised by a rich couple, neither of whom were his parents. True, the couple he had been raised by were his mother's brother and said brother's wife, but the analogy still stood.

Although Philip hadn't spent nearly as much time with his father as he did his uncle, every moment he did was engrained into his mind. Years of scripture and Godliness surrounded the image of his father; Nathaniel Swift was a man of God from the day of his birth, living for the Lord and his word. His love for God and travel had made his career path clear; he was a missionary through and through. Though a hint of rebelliousness had attracted the wealthy Miss Rebecca Swann, and with a ring on his finger, bible in his hand, and God in his heart, Nathaniel and his wife spent years spreading the word throughout the jungles of Africa.

Rebecca had returned home to Philip and her brother, Weatherby more often than her husband, but she was rarely apart from Nathaniel for long. They made sure to be home at least a total of three months of the year with their son, Rebecca bringing home stories of adventures about cannibals and pirates, which interested Weatherby's daughter, Elizabeth a little too much for her father's liking.

The couple wished for more time with their son, but it was agreed that the wild jungles of Africa were too dangerous for a young child. But one day, shortly after learning to read, Philip opened a copy of the Bible he found in the library and soon became engrossed in tales of parting seas and lions' dens. When Nathaniel and Rebecca came home a month later, Philip begged his parents to take him with them so that he may spread God's word. After many years of begging, when Philip was eleven, Nathaniel finally gave in and promised to take him on his next trip upon his return. It was a friendly village Nathaniel had been to many times, so he saw no harm in bringing the boy along one time.

Unfortunately, a month later, Rebecca had returned home alone with the news that Nathaniel had been killed, and she escaped with nothing more than his bible, cross, and her own life.

To make matters worse, not only was Nathaniel's body never recovered, but Rebecca began to exhibit some strange symptoms, fevers, shakes, delirium and worse. The doctors were unable to figure out exactly what was wrong, chalking it up to some sort of tropical disease, and Rebecca Swift passed away only a year after her husband. Philip was then taken in permanently by Weatherby Swann and raised alongside his cousin Elizabeth... which was identical to the position they had been in before, but now with no choice in the matter.

Weatherby had also lost his wife three years ago due to some sort of fever, but being ten at the time, no one had bothered to tell Philip any specifics, and to the day, still had no clue what did Katherine Swann in.

The events were hard on Weatherby. Having lost his wife, sister and brother-in-law within the span of three years, and consoling his grieving orphaned nephew and motherless daughter took its toll on Weatherby, making him a might over-protective of the children and their wellbeing. He soon decided that London held too many bad memories for the children, and when he was asked by the King to take governorship of a place in Jamaica called Port Royal, Weatherby packed up the children and set sail aboard the HMS  _Dauntless_.

Philip's hand ran over the bloodstain; he missed his father, but he knew Nathaniel died the way he wanted to, spreading the word of God.

He closed the book, tilted his head up, closed his troubled green eyes, and sighed.  _Selfishness is the root of sin,_  his father would always say; but could it truly be selfish to ask God to wait a little longer before taking the people Philip loved to the Kingdom of heaven? Was it truly a sin to ask for one more day?

" _Yo, ho, yo, ho, it's a pirate's life for me."_

Philip's eyes snapped open.

Sitting up into an alert position from his former (reclining against the wall, seated on an unopened barrel of Lord knows what) he swiftly scanned the deck, hoping it wasn't what he thought it was.

It was.

Standing at the bow of the ship, a twelve year old girl sung a sea shanty that a missionary's wife had taught her.

"Elizabeth," Philip gritted his teeth. If her father heard her singing that song again they'd both be in big trouble.

Darting from his seat, Philip ran straight for his cousin, praying he'd get there before someone else did.

But he didn't.

By the time he reached her, some crewmember had grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulder, frightening her, and begun to scold the young girl.

"Cursed pirates sail these waters," the man warned as Philip reached them. "You want to call 'em down on us?"

Elizabeth's fearful eyes found her cousin's gaze; she was terrified of the strange man. Philip opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, praying God gave him the words, when a not unfamiliar voice called out.

"Mr. Gibbs, that will do."

The trio turned to see Lieutenant James Norrington standing confidently with the soon to be Governor at his side. Philip frowned, although he didn't dislike the Lieutenant, he had begun to uncomfortably notice that Norrington took one too many glances at Elizabeth. Though it was nothing inappropriate, the potential that they could become something more was a little too evident for the liking of the missionary's son.

"She was singing about pirates," the man apparently named Gibbs objected. "Bad luck to sing about pirates with us mired in this unnatural fog. Mark my words."

"Consider them marked." Had it not been improper, Philip had no doubt Norrington would have rolled his eyes. "On your way."

"Aye, Lieutenant." Gibbs didn't even take a look back at Elizabeth as he walked away, but they all heard him mutter, "Bad luck to have a woman on board, too. Even a miniature one."

Elizabeth faced Norrington, "I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate."

Philip sighed, Elizabeth never could keep her opinions about pirates to herself, godless men that they were. But like most, Elizabeth's longing for adventure pushed all thoughts of God to the back of his young cousin's mind. Not him. If Philip was going to spread the word like his parents, he always had to keep God foremost in his mind.

"Think again, Miss Swann," Norrington stepped past the group, hoping to dissuade the young girl's obsession. "Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves. A short drop and a sudden stop."

Despite Norrington's reassuring smile, Philip couldn't help but notice his uncle's disapproving look. Clearly the Lieutenant was relying on Elizabeth not understanding the phrase to make it not seem improper. But following her eyes, Philip caught Gibbs' not too subtle hint of clarification, and the following gasp emitted from the girl's shock.

His uncle must have caught it too because in a second he was at Norrington's side.

"Lieutenant Norrington, I appreciate your fervor, but I am concerned about the effect this subject will have on my children," Weatherby glanced at Philip and Elizabeth. The cousins shared a look, and Philip had to turn away to hide his smile.

"My apologies, Governor," Norrington withdrew.

"Actually, I find it all fascinating," Elizabeth interjected.

"Yes, that's what concerns me," Weatherby bitterly smiled. "Now you stay here and no more pirate songs, do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Elizabeth promised.

"Philip, would you mind joining me for a second, please?" Weatherby asked.

"Yes, Sir," Philip nodded and scampered to his uncle's side. "What is it, Uncle?"

"Philip," Weatherby said wordlessly instructing the boy to walk with him away from the others. He was happy when Philip got the message and followed dutifully at his side. "We will be landing in Port Royal in a few weeks, and beginning our new lives. You understand that, right? That we will be starting new lives?"

"Of course," Philip frowned, gripping the aged bible. Why was his uncle bringing this up?

Weatherby paused to consider his next move, "Philip... I know that you want to be a missionary like your father, but are you sure that's how  _you_  want to spend your life?"

Philip started; he hadn't been expecting that question, "Of course I do! It's what my father did, it's what my mother did, and it's what I'll do."

"Doing something because your parents did it, shouldn't be the only factor in deciding your future. If you want to go on adventures, I'd be more than happy if you joined the navy."

"I'm not doing this because my parents did it! I'm doing this because  _I_ want to do this. It's what I'm meant to do."

"Alright, Philip," Weatherby sighed, placing a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "But if you ever change your mind-"

"Look! A boy! There's a boy in the water!"

Weatherby and Philip were jolted out of their conversation as all went rushing past them to see if what Elizabeth was shouting was true. Joining the crowd, Weatherby and Philip were respectfully allowed to the rail to get a clear view next to Norrington.

Sure enough, floating on a piece of wreckage, there was a young boy no older than Elizabeth.

"Man overboard! Man the ropes! Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard!" Norrington shouted.

Everyone darted into action, jostling Philip all over until someone knocked him into Elizabeth.

"And you said nothing would come of watching the ocean," Elizabeth smirked.

Shaking his head at his cousin, Philip looked over to see someone lifting the boy from the wreck and laying him on the deck.

"Come on!" Philip grabbed her hand. The pair dashed over into the crowd, pushing and squeezing through the men until they reached the front.

"He's still breathing," Norrington announced, looking up at the future Governor.

Weatherby cast an uneasy glance at the children, worried about the effect it might have on them. Philip didn't notice, he was too busy frowning at the boy. Something didn't make sense.

Philip looked up at his uncle, "Where did he come from?"

"Mary, Mother of God."

Everyone turned to look at the source of the voice. It was that more pirate than Navy sailor, Gibbs. He stared out at the sea in front of them, frozen stiff at the sight. There was a mad dash for the rail, in which Philip once again was jostled around. When they reached the rail, they too were all horrified at what they saw.

Wreckage from a ship was scattered across the ocean, what was left of the hull burned in a fiery inferno, bodies littered the water. This truly was an act of Godlessness.

"What happened here?" Weatherby asked, though he was afraid that he already knew the answer.

"Most likely the powder magazine," Norrington replied. "Merchant vessels run heavily armed."

"Lot of good it did them," Gibbs muttered. Philip - who had somehow ended up next to the man - gave the aged sailor a curious look. "Everyone's thinking it. I'm just saying it. Pirates."

Philip didn't hear what his uncle said in reply because he was distracted by Elizabeth wandering up to the boy… alone. His heart pounded with panic and fear as he thought of what a stranger might do to his cousin. Losing his pseudo-mother, father, and actual mother in the span of three years had made Philip paranoid, and he refused to let anything happen to his best friend and cousin.

Instantly he ran up to Elizabeth and grabbed her shoulder, "Elizabeth!"

She gasped and turned around, not unlike she had done with Gibbs. They paused for a beat, and then the tension broke. They were both safe. Philip gave her a reassuring smile, and they turned to look at the unconscious boy, his hands resting on the tops of her shoulders.

"Children!" They faced Weatherby, and as their backs turned, someone lifted the boy and began to carry him away. "Children, I want you to accompany the boy. He'll be in your charge. Take care of him."

Elizabeth nodded gravely and the pair began forward, but Philip, uncertain of his uncle, stopped and looked at Weatherby. His uncle had an unreadable expression, but it was by no means a happy one.

Weatherby turned and returned to helping the men, but Philip stood motionless for a minute. He was very confused by the turn of events; surely God couldn't let something as horrific as this happen without a reason.

Philip sighed; it wasn't his place to guess God's plans. He turned back to his cousin and once again froze in shock. He really didn't know how much more of this he could take. The boy was now awake, grasping Elizabeth's wrist. She said something to him and the boy replied, leaving Elizabeth to say something more. Just as Philip started toward the boy and his cousin, the boy passed out once more.

Suddenly, his cousin frowned and pulled something from the boy's neck. Reaching them, Philip saw a flash of gold and heard Elizabeth whisper, but he couldn't make out what.

"Has he said anything?" Norrington surprised Elizabeth.

What was it? National Sneak Up On Elizabeth Day?

Philip once more saw a flash of gold as Elizabeth hid something behind her back. She was very rigid and frightened; clearly whatever she had taken from the boy was something she couldn't reveal.

"His name is William Turner," Elizabeth replied. "That's all I found out."

Philip frowned at her disapprovingly, and she fearfully caught his look. Silently pleading with him, Philip sighed and gave a small nod: he would hide her secret.

"Take him below," Norrington ordered. And with that, the boy was carried off.

Philip watched as they took him down. What could this William Turner have had that would make Elizabeth of all people so afraid? Turning back, once Philip realised he would not be allowed to follow the boy, he realised he had also lost sight of Elizabeth. Torn between finding Elizabeth and watching the men search the wreck, Philip weighed his options. There was no way Elizabeth was going to tell him anything of what she was hiding, and it might be helpful to have another set of eyes on the sea.

Eventually he decided to return to the rail and watch the wreck. After all, curiosity wasn't a sin, was it?

" _Probably_ ," a small voice inside him said.

Philip looked over the side; he was surprised to find that the piece of wreckage William had been on was still floating next to the ship, almost as if someone was holding it in place.

He frowned and squinted, maybe he could see what it was. After all, it probably wasn't good for a ship to have wreckage caught on it.

Then he saw them, two hazel eyes staring up at him.

It looked to be a girl, no younger than Elizabeth, with pale skin, large eyes, full lips, and either black hair, or dark brown that looked black when wet. She was rather beautiful for a young girl, Philip couldn't help but notice.

Her eyes widened in shock when they caught his own green ones, but before he could do anything she turned and splashed back into the water, away from him.

He was about to call out his discovery, when he saw something that made him feel as if he had swallowed a cube of ice.

The girl had a tail.


	2. Dreams and Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Swann family readies for the promotion ceremony, a shared dream with Elizabeth and a visit from Will Turner makes Philip take stock in his life plans.

 Birds of a Feather

**Curse of the Black Pearl**

_Chapter One_

Dreams and Expectations

* * *

Philip's eyes snapped open.

The dreamy image of that day, eight years ago, was replaced by the all too familiar sight of his bedroom's roof. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, hoping to wipe away the image of those strange hazel one. But like the moment he had seen them all those years ago, they were forever burned into his mind.

Blowing out the candle on his bedside table, Philip stretched his sleep tightened joints and yawned. It couldn't be too late in the morning, but when he crossed over to the window and drew back the curtains to a sunny sky, he realised it wasn't very early either.

Shaking away the thought of the day he had met Will Turner, Philip began to dress in the clothes the servants had laid out the night before.

As Philip was a man, Uncle Weatherby was a lot more lenient on letting Philip do most things for himself than Elizabeth was allowed. For the most part, the cousins were allowed to choose their own clothes, but Elizabeth had to let the servants dress her.

On special occasions like today, neither cousin was allowed to choose and had to wear whatever was laid out for them. Philip – being only the Governor's nephew as well as a Pastor-in-training – usually didn't have to wear anything too extravagant. Meanwhile, Elizabeth regularly had to suffer through the latest fashion from London.

Philip was glad to see that today's clothing was elegant, yet simple; exactly the kind of clothes that suited his position in life.

He tossed aside his night pants; they were his only night clothes, having always found the heat of the Caribbean so great that he slept shirtless every night.

As he dressed, he took in the sight of his appearance in the mirror. He had certainly grown up since that day eight years ago. He was tall, semi-muscular, and he supposed he was handsome. The girls around town certainly giggled whenever they caught sight of him with his soft hands, straight white teeth, and brown hair kept a little longer than what his uncle considered proper. Philip usually kept his facial hair as a little more than stubble, and there was something strong and hopeful in his green eyes.

Philip certainly had no shortage of female admirers.

_Females._

_Girls._

_The girl with the tail._

Philip shook his head, desperately trying to clear the recurring image from his mind. As much as he fought against it, Philip still couldn't help but think of the tailed girl.

Long ago he had shook off the thought that he had seen a girl with an actual tail, chalking it up to stress and reading Revelations one too many times.

But still...

He wasn't even sure he had seen a girl, much less one with a tail, but the image of her stayed with him. Not for the first time did he wonder if the Lord Almighty was sending him a sign, but he had no idea what it could mean.

Hanging his father's cross around his neck, Philip sighed, the image of the Godless creature fixing herself in his mind once more.

"Philip?" Weatherby Swann's voice accompanied a knocking. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Uncle," Philip fixed his collar and turned to the door.

Weatherby entered followed by a servant carrying a suspicious looking box, "Oh, good, you're up."

Catching sight of Philip, the Governor stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Philip, transfixed by the sight of his nephew. Philip frowned at the unreadable expression on his uncle's face; it almost seemed as if he were seeing Philip for the first time.

"Uncle?" Philip asked, "Is something wrong?"

Weatherby shook himself out of his trance, "Oh, forgive me, I was caught a little off guard."

"By what?" Philip watched as the servant placed the suspicious box on the table, bowed to the two men of the house, and exited the room.

"By how much you look like your father," Weatherby smiled. "You've been looking more and more like Nathaniel in these past few months, but looking at you all dressed up with the look of pride and wisdom in the word of the Lord, I swear you could be his double. Except-"

"My eyes," Philip looked down, he had both a smile on his face and the starting of tears in his eyes. "You've told me many a time that I have my mother's eyes, the exact shape and size."

"It's not just the shape and size," Weatherby clapped his nephew on the shoulder. There was a warm on Weatherby's face that only ever appeared when he thought of the sister he so dearly loved and lost. "You have the same sparkle that reads of courage, life, and the search for adventure that my sister did. I'm sure she's proud of the fine young man that you've become."

"Thank you, Uncle," Philip fought to keep the smile on his face. "She would be proud of the way you've raised me."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Weatherby chuckled. "I'm fairly certain that if the Lord ever sent my sister from the Kingdom of Heaven to speak to me, the first words out of her mouth would be:  _For the love of the Lord, Weatherby, lighten up on the kids."_

"Well, Mom was a character."

"I suppose Elizabeth had to have gotten it from somewhere."

The men chuckled, but immediately a sad silence fell over the two men as they reminiscenced about Rebecca Swift née Swann. The memories had become blurred over time, less vivid to Philip than to Weatherby. Philip had precious few memories of his mother left – and even less of his father – but what was clear to Philip about his mother was her fierce love for God, life, and above all, her son.

Philip swallowed, composing himself, "So, to what do I owe to have the pleasure of your early morning visit?"

"Forgive me. I almost forgot," Weatherby laughed. "I wanted to talk to you before the ceremony today."

"About what?"

"Your future."

Philip's face fell.

"I know that you've been studying hard and that Pastor Thomas has promised to make you a full minister in six months, but is that what you really want?" Weatherby asked.

"No, you mean is that really what  _you_ want?" Philip turned away from his uncle.

"Philip-"

"No, I know what you're going to say. The Navy is good life. The missionary's life is lonely. I'm only doing it because my parents did. I've heard the speech many times before."

"Just listen to me. The missionary's life isn't what you think it is. It's not converting all the savages in a village within a week. It's dangerous, primitive conditions. There are language barriers, hostility, cannibals, deadly animals, poisonous plants, and not to mention tropical diseases. I don't want to lose you the way I lost Rebecca. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch her die?"

"Do you know how hard it was for me?" Philip whipped back around. "Watching your mother's life slowly ebb out of her is something I wish on no one."

"Philip, please. I know you're a grown man who can take care of himself," Weatherby walked over to Philip's bedside table and took Nathaniel's bible from the drawer. "But every time I see the bloodstains on this bible, all I can think is that I'll never see you again,"

"Uncle, please," Philip took the bible and faced his uncle, "I know what I'm doing. I know the risks, and I'm ready to deal with them. I know that, like my parents, I was placed on this earth to spread the word of God."

Weatherby placed a hand on Philip's shoulder, "Are you sure?"

"Positive," Philip answered without hesitation, but the image of the tailed girl flickered in his mind.

It took a moment, but then Weatherby sighed. He knew how hard it had been to get his sister to do something she didn't want. He knew better than to think his nephew didn't have that same spirit of conviction.

"Well then, you have my full support, Philip. Here," Weatherby walked over to the table and opened the suspicious box, "I brought you a gift."

Philip set down his father's bible, "What is it?"

When he reached the table, Philip was startled by his gift. Sitting before him was an elegant, yet simple sword with a hilt made of silver and his initials,  _P N S_ , engraved upon the hilt. Philip spent enough time with the blacksmith's apprentice to know that this sword was designed for a beginner who was not interested in any fancy technique. It was lightweight, evenly balanced, and on the smaller side, the hilt fitting his hand just right. Also in the box was a small leather sword belt with a place on his left side to sheath his sword and a pocket on his right side to place his father's bible.

"I knew that whether you picked the Navy or the Mission that you would reach for your bible first," Weatherby smiled as Philip admired his blade. "Now you can both preach and protect yourself in case something happens."

"Thank you, Uncle," Philip placed the sword back in the box.

"There's no need to thank me," Weatherby shook his head. "I'm just glad to know you'll be safe. Perhaps Captain- I mean,  _Commodore_  Norrington can show you some basic fencing skills before you decide to head off."

"Oh no. I'm sure the Commodore will be busy with his new position."

"I suppose you're right, but I do wish you'd find a teacher before you leave us."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find  _someone_ ," Philip smiled to himself; he knew exactly who he'd ask.

"Now, if you'd finish getting ready for the ceremony, I have to go wake Elizabeth," Weatherby sighed, sounding more exhausted from his daughter's unladylike actions than annoyed about them. "Doubtless your cousin is still asleep."

"Doubtless," Philip grinned, nodding in agreement.

As Philip went to close the box, his uncle suddenly put out a hand to still him.

"Actually," Weatherby said, "I'd prefer it if you'd wear that to the ceremony today. You're the closest thing to a son I have, and the people like seeing a strong young man raised by the Governor around. Especially with the Commodore proposing today."

Philip frowned in confusion, "The Commodore's proposing today? To whom?"

"Elizabeth."

Philip's eyes went wide, "Elizabeth?"

Norrington and Elizabeth?

_Really?_

"Yes, Elizabeth." Weatherby frowned, "Why? Is there some sort of problem?"

"It's just," Philip shook his head in disbelief, "he's ten years older and not really her suited to her preferences."

"Not suited to her preferences?"

"No."

"Then who is?"

Philip blanched. There was no way he was going to admit who he thought would be a good match for Elizabeth. Uncle Weatherby would just laugh in his face and think he was being ridiculous.

"I- Er-"

"Oh, I get it," Weatherby smiled.

"You do?" Philip all but squeaked.

"Philip, I understand the feeling. It's what I went through with my sister. Elizabeth's your little cousin, and you don't want to see her all grown up and married. But she's not a little girl anymore, Philip. Gone are the days when you two could just run and play. Someday soon she'll choose a partner to spend her life with, and you're eventually going to have to let her go."

"You're right," Philip nervously tied the sword belt around his waist and placed his father's bible in it. "That's completely what I was feeling. She's my cousin and playmate, and I don't want to see her go, but I will have to someday let her go."

Philip thanked the Lord that his uncle was never really good at reading him or Elizabeth.

"Just remember that she'll always be your little cousin," Weatherby placed a fatherly hand on his nephew's shoulder. "To be honest, she's more of your little sister than cousin. But she'll always love you, Philip."

"Of course," Philip nodded.

When Weatherby left the room, Philip exhaled.

That was a close one.

But Norrington wanted to marry Elizabeth?  _Really?_

He searched his memories of them, all the way back to that day eight years ago. Philip had to admit, there certainly had been signs, even when she had only been twelve and Norrington twenty-two. Not that Norrington was a child lover or anything. But even on that day they found Will Turner, there had been signs.

The sudden image of Elizabeth hiding something behind her back and the fearful gaze of the tailed girl crossed across his mind.

It was strange; he hadn't had that dream in years. Why was he having it now? It was almost as if he was going to see her-

No, that was impossible.

There was no way he was ever going to see the tailed girl again.

...Was there?

* * *

Will Turner stood nervously in the entrance way of the Swann Manor. He had always hated coming there, feeling like he didn't belong as the grandeur of the mansion taunted him with everything he couldn't have. But Mister Brown was once again passed out drunk, and it was up to Will to deliver the sword he had painstakingly slaved over.

The sword Mister Brown would, of course, take credit for.

Observing the clock on the wall, Will thought about how long it had been since he had actually stepped foot in the mansion. To his astonishment, he realised it had been a few years. Philip Swift and Elizabeth Swann had long outgrown their need for a playmate (or more accurately, had outgrown the propriety of it), and a servant had come to the smith make the commission for and collect Philip's sword.

The mansion had always intimidated him. Will had never even dared to dream of the level of wealth and comfort his former playmates reveled in, though he was grateful to know that neither cousin had a particular taste for such opulence.

Will turned to the silver candle holder on the wall beside him. He considered it for a moment, taking in the intricate silver work, and reached up to touch it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a familiar voice interrupted.

Will smiled, lowering his hand and turning to face that familiar voice.

"Philip," Will greeted as the Governor's nephew came down the stairs.

Will had, of course, seen his former playmates since his last visit, Philip especially being allowed to visit the blacksmith's apprentice. The minister-to-be would often make a stop at the smith whenever he visited town. The young men would tell each other about all the new things they had learned in the training of their future professions, and the listener would do their best to feign interest.

While Will appreciated the friendship to the minister-to-be, Philip had also ended up playing the role of messenger between Will and Elizabeth when propriety began to restrict their allowed dealings. In fact, over the years, even as the letters dwindled and their contents became increasingly briefer, both Will and Elizabeth knew to expect that "Philip" would bring them an extra birthday or Christmas gift, and Weatherby Swann would be none the wiser of the clear infatuation between Governor's daughter and Blacksmith's apprentice.

Will had certainly watched from afar as young Elizabeth Swann blossomed into a beautiful young woman, and Elizabeth had watched Will become strong and handsome. However, as society forbade them to express their true feelings, Philip had become their shared sounding board, confessing the feelings in their heart, and swearing him to secrecy.

Both were convinced the other had no feelings for them, which frustrated Philip to no end.

It had gotten to the point that Philip had seriously considered locking them in a closet together until they worked it out.

Or perhaps take a less extreme action such as finally snapping in the middle of one of their "I wish I could be with Will/Elizabeth rants" and tell them that "Will/Elizabeth likes you! Now give up the whining or go do something about it, and stop bugging me about it!"

But Philip knew that it wasn't his place to intervene and he had to be thoughtful and empathetic of the duo's feelings and issues.

To be honest, sometimes Philip really hated the cheerful and accepting side of being a man of God. He may believe that everyone had good in them, but that didn't mean he didn't want the occasional break from dealing with the frustrating with the actions of others all the time.

"Hello Will," Philip greeted, coming to a stop in front of his friend. He nodded to the silver candle holder, "Careful, that comes off the wall very easily."

"You sound like you know from experience."

"I will not confess nor deny anything."

Will laughed and took in the sight of his friend, "I wondered if you were going to the ceremony today."

"Oh, yes," Philip awkwardly tugged at his collar,  _very_ aware of the fact his shirt alone would cost Will six months of work. "Uncle's dragging me to it. Sure to be a boring affair."

"As boring as it may seem, you're lucky to be invited."

"Standing around for three hours as men wave swords in the hot Caribbean sun, and then having to socialize with people who honestly have nothing interesting to say, isn't what I would call lucky."

" _Although Elizabeth rejecting Norrington might be somewhat exciting,"_ Philip mentally added as an afterthought.

"I guess we'll have to agree to disagree." Will glanced down at the sword on Philip's hip and grinned widely, "That's a beautiful sword."

"Gift from my uncle. Made by a master craftsman," Philip winked, knowing that the entire project would have been made by Will alone. "I'll be happy to hear when he makes a name for himself."

" _If_ he does," Will corrected, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. He looked around nervously and lowered his voice, "I don't think Mister Brown is going to be retiring anytime soon, and I don't have the resources to strike out on my own. I think he'll be taking credit for my work for sometime yet."

"Will, you know that if it's an issue of money, I could always-"

"Thank you," Will interrupted. "But I believe a man should provide for himself."

Philip shook his head, "There's nothing wrong with charity, Will. Charity is basically the entire principle I and my parents have based our lives on. And I really have no use for the money myself, so why not?"

Will hesitated, "I'll... I'll think about it."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Ah, Mister Turner!" a voice interrupted.

Will and Philip turned to see Governor Weatherby Swann enter the room. Philip tried not to frown as Will automatically took a step away from him, almost as if Will thought the Governor would believe the close proximity with the blacksmith would infect Philip with poverty or something.

"It's good to see you again," Weatherby greeted the blacksmith's apprentice.

"Good day, Sir," Will placed the box in his arms upon the table. "I have your order."

"Order?" Philip enquired. His banter with Will had made him forget to ask his friend what he was doing there.

"The Commodore's new sword," Weatherby answered. "I only hope it's as beautiful as the sword Mister Brown made for you."

"Actually," Philip said, eyeing Will as a thought crossing his mind. "Will was just telling me how  _he_ was the one who made my sword."

Will's arms froze in spot, the words hitting him like a canon shot as the new sword hovered above its case.

"What?" Weatherby scowled, head turning sharply to Will.

Eyes wide and face pale, Will looked downright terrified. The Governor had wished that a Master Blacksmith make his nephew's sword, and now Philip had let the cat out of the bag.

"I think Philip is mistaken," Will hastily tried to cover his tracks. "I was telling him how I helped design it."

"No, you made it," Philip said flatly. "Mister Brown decided to finally let you do your own project, and since you know me so well, he let you do this order."

" _Philip_ -"

"Will, please. You made it; take credit for it."

"Is this true, Mister Turner?" Weatherby asked.

Will swallowed; he couldn't read the look in the Governor's eyes but he was fairly certain Weatherby wasn't about to jump with joy.

"Uh…" Will shot Philip a deadly glare. He then took a deep breath and admitted the truth, "Yes, I made Philip's sword."

To his utter surprise, Weatherby simply laughed.

"Well, you did a very good job, Mister Turner," Weatherby patted Will on the shoulder.

"You're... not mad, Sir?" Will looked at the Governor in utter confusion.

"Well, I would have preferred a Master to complete the order, but look how well it turned out." Weatherby gestured to the sword in Will's hands, "If you keep up the hard work, you might someday be able to make a sword like that."

Philip loudly choked back a snort.

As Weatherby looked upon Philip in confusion at the suppressed grin - his nephew seeming to shake a little with withheld laughter - Philip saw the death glare Will was giving him.

"So," Philip choked out, trying (and failing) not to lose it over the irony of his uncle's words, "Norrington's sword."

"Oh, yes," Weatherby took the sword from Will.

As the young blacksmith began to explain the working of the blade, Philip caught the small looks Will kept shooting him. The message was clear: don't do that again.

And Philip knew he wouldn't, but he had always struggled to see Will never get any credit for his hard work. That  _someday_  Will spoke of with such wistfulness was just too far away for it to sit comfortably with Philip.

After Will had done some sort of flip with the new sword, Philip was drawn back into the conversation at the sound of his name.

"Six months," Weatherby said as Philip tuned back in.

Will was busy packing away the new blade, "That's not that far off."

"For what?" Philip asked.

"For when Pastor Thomas will make you a Minister," Weatherby said.

"Oh, right," Philip smiled. "Yes, I only have six months to go, and then I'm off to be a missionary."

Will's heart fell a little at the thought of his friend leaving, "Any idea as to where you'll go?"

"I'm thinking South America," Philip answered. "Although I do want to get to Africa someday. See where my parents spent their lives."

"We'll you'll certainly need that blade then," Will nodded to the sword at Philip's side. "And to know how to use it."

"Philip assures me that he has a teacher in mind," Weatherby said.

"You do?" Will frowned.

Something shifted in the blacksmith's stomach. While making his friend that beautiful sword, Will had always pictured himself being the one to teach Philip how to fight. He didn't like his role of teacher to be usurped by – most likely – some Navy officer Philip had bonded with.

Will shuddered to think that it might be Norrington.

Admittedly, he would be okay if it was Groves.

_Not Gillette._

"Oh yes," Philip smiled. "At least I think he'll teach me. He's self-taught, but he practices three hours a day, so I'll go to him if he'll teach me."

"Three hours a day?" Weatherby sounded impressed. "With a man that passionate, I pray that he will indeed be your tutor, Philip."

Will smiled at Philip's hidden request, "I'm sure he will. Though from what I hear, six months might not quite be enough time."

"Well, like it or not, I'm leaving in six months," Philip said. "There's nothing that can stop that fact."

"Then I suppose we'll only see you once or twice a year," a woman's voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.

The three men looked up to see Elizabeth gliding down in a beautiful – yet clearly very tight – dress. Philip couldn't help but see the strained look on her face as she slowly made her way down the steps. The dress was probably latest fashion from London, and Philip had no doubt that she hated it.

"Elizabeth!" Weatherby beamed. "You look stunning!"

Elizabeth smiled at her father, and then noticed that there was three figures at the bottom of the stairs. Philip watched as her eyes set on Will.

"Will!" Her whole face lit up at the sight of the blacksmith's apprentice and she rushed down the stairs. "It's so good to see you!"

Philip looked over at Will who was staring at Elizabeth in speechless adoration. It was times like this that Philip couldn't believe Uncle Weatherby was blind to the feelings of his daughter and the blacksmith.

Something stirred in Philip's chest momentarily. The look of love in the eyes of Will and Elizabeth was so intense. Philip wondered if he would ever find someone to feel that way about.

As she reached the landing and settled next to Philip, Elizabeth didn't even greet her family members. Her mind was focused on nothing but Will, the young man who unknowingly held her heart.

Philip frowned; he knew that despite Elizabeth's heart being set on Will, her father would pressure her into marrying Norrington. Philip would do his best to help be Elizabeth's ally against the potential suitor – as he had for all her suitors – but he couldn't help but wonder if she would still have to strength to refuse when Philip left her behind to be a missionary. The last thing he wanted was to return to Port Royal to find Will's heart broken and Elizabeth trapped in a loveless marriage.

He knew that if he asked, Elizabeth would join him on his trip. Her craving for adventure had not be abated over the years, but Philip also knew that his parents would rise from the dead before Uncle Weatherby consented to Elizabeth joining Philip in South America.

"I promise that I'll return more than once a year," Philip said, trying to distract his uncle who had started to watch Elizabeth carefully. Elizabeth was not very subtle about her joy in seeing Will.

"I dreamt about you last night, Will," Elizabeth said.

Philip jolted, shocked at Elizabeth's blunt frankness. As much as he loved his cousin, he did  _not_ want to be in the same room when she was telling someone about the – no doubt – sinful dreams she had about Will. Sinful in the sense that Will was not her husband, but even if he was, Philip still didn't want to hear about those kinds of dreams.

"About me?" Will reacted with surprise, oblivious to the embarrassment radiating off of Weatherby Swann.

Philip raised an eyebrow in surprise. Clearly Weatherby didn't want to hear about those dreams either.

"Um, Elizabeth?" Philip tried to be tactful. "Maybe this isn't a proper subject for present company?"

"Philip is right," Weatherby agreed, sending a thankful look to his nephew for the attempt to save the conversation, "this is hardly appropriate-"

"About the day we met," Elizabeth ignored the men. "Do you remember?"

_Wait. What?_

"How could I forgot?" Will asked.

"You what?" Philip blurted out, feeling like he had been hit in the stomach. Ignoring the strange look he got from Will, Philip asked his cousin, "You dreamt about the day we met Will?"

Elizabeth scowled at him, "Yes. Why?"

Weatherby's eyes nervous darted between the cousins, "Elizabeth, I think your cousin is suggesting that this topic isn't one we should be discussing."

"Actually," Philip gave his uncle a sympathetic look. He would usually drop something like this, but the fact he and Elizabeth had the same dream was too big to ignore. "I also dreamt about that day last night."

"Really?" Elizabeth asked. For some strange reason Philip couldn't discern, her hand briefly touched top of her ribcage. Her voice was suddenly nervous and she had the same shifty look she had that day, the one that told Philip she was hiding something. "I wonder why might that be?"

"I don't know," Philip said, his voice rank with suspicion. "Do you have any ideas?"

Elizabeth looked anyway, "None."

Philip narrowed his eyes. She  _was_ hiding something.

"Well then," Weatherby was desperate to move along the conversation, "It must be something to do with cousins. Something like how twins can understand what the other is thinking."

"Must be," Elizabeth agreed. She smiled and added teasingly, "Unless Will also had the dream."

"Unfortunately not, Miss Swann," Will respectfully bowed his head.

Philip winced, he knew Elizabeth hated when Will called her that.

Elizabeth smiled, "Will, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?"

Will glanced at the Governor's disapproving expression, and Philip knew this wasn't going to end well.

"At least once more, Miss Swann," Will answered, struggling to keep a smile on his face and the nervousness from his demeanour. "As always."

Philip watched the hurt and disappointment pass over Elizabeth, and he gently touched her arm is a small gesture of comfort. He knew she'd give him an earful later that night.

Maybe it was time to clear out a closet.

"There, see," Weatherby said, a touch of annoyance infecting his voice. "At least the boy has a sense of propriety."

At her father's words, Elizabeth felt the rage and embarrassment bubble up. How could Will treat Philip as openly close as a brother, and yet turn around and act as if she was royalty and he some common peasant? And to do it in front of her father too?

Elizabeth had always struggled with dealings in propriety, and the Lord knew that despite Philip's best efforts, he was no help in that regard with his schoolboy adoration and obsessed focus on God. Philip telling her what was and wasn't sinful, didn't relate well in the categorization of what was accepted in society. For although she may not go to Hell over table manners, she would get a sound lecture from her father about it.

Will was even worse, and for all she adored about him, there were times she wished Will would say to hell with propriety and do what he wanted to. Even if it was something as simple as just calling her Elizabeth.

"Now, we really must be going," Weatherby took the sword case from the table, and Elizabeth could see Will knew he had messed up.

_Good._

As Weatherby began to exit the foyer, Elizabeth straightened her back and put on the mask of stiff formality she hated so much. It was worth it though. Will needed to know how much he upset her.

"Good day, Mr. Turner," Elizabeth said simply.

"Come along," Weatherby ordered.

Elizabeth held out her arm for Philip to take, and her cousin looked awkwardly between the Will and Elizabeth.

"You go ahead," Philip urged. "I'll be a minute."

Without a second glance, Elizabeth strode out of the house. Will made a move to follow the group, but Philip gently grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Next time, just compromise and call her Miss Elizabeth," Philip advised. "Or at the very least, stop addressing me by my given name in front of my family."

Will dumbly nodded, and Philip took it as his signal to exit. He patted Will's arm and raced forward to join his family.

As Elizabeth saw her cousin catch up to the group, she heard Will call back, "Good day."

It was only once they were settled in the carriage, about to set off that she swore him say it.

_"Elizabeth."_

A small smile graced her features as the carriage set off towards James Norrington's promotion ceremony.

* * *

 

As they rolled along in the carriage, Philip and Elizabeth dreading the afternoon before them, both cousins prayed for the same thing.

_Please let something exciting happen at the ceremony._

At that exact moment, a pirate by the name of Captain Jack Sparrow caught sight of Port Royal.


	3. An Exciting Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth goes cliff diving, Will fights a pirate, and Philip pretends to not understand the concept of a Commodore.

Birds of a Feather

**The Curse of the Black Pearl**

_Chapter Two_

An Exciting Afternoon

* * *

Elizabeth Swann's afternoon had been anything but exciting. As usual, she was forced to attend a boring, formal occasion that lasted far longer than necessary. She understood that Norrington was a skilled sailor, but three hours for someone to publically announce that he now was in charge of multiple ships seemed ridiculous. Sure he had demonstrated his fencing skills with the new sword presented to him, but when the Caribbean sun was beating down hard and Elizabeth was wearing a dress that felt ten pounds too heavy and ten inches too tight, she couldn't care less.

She took pleasure out of knowing her cousin hated the ceremony as much as her. Philip shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, pulling at his collar during the service while occasionally glancing up at the sun like he was angry at it for doing its job. Elizabeth could see his internal battle as Philip constantly looked down at the bible on his belt. She had no doubt that if it wasn't considered rude, Philip would have just read it during the ceremony.

It was on days like this that Elizabeth wondered how her father could bear it. He was almost as heavily clad as she was, and he had to wear his wig on top of it.

Of course when the ceremony did end, then came the reception and suddenly Elizabeth missed the ceremony. Suitor after suitor asked Elizabeth to dance, to get refreshments with them, to discuss Norrington and the ceremony, or to just socialize with them in some form. Clearly none of them could tell as she fluttered her fan ever faster that all she wanted to do was sit in the shade and remove the accursed corset.

"Are you doing alright?" Philip asked as he danced with Elizabeth to the envy of many a gentleman in attendance. "You look like you're about to drop."

"It's this bloody corset," Elizabeth grumbled low enough so her father didn't hear. She looked especially pale as Philip spun her around in time with a dozen other couples, "Honestly if men are so concerned about thin waists being attractive,  _they_ should wear the corsets."

Philip laughed and shook his head.

Elizabeth was thankful that Philip was there to fend off her suitors. Someone asked her to dance? Philip would swoop in claiming she had already promised him the next one. Someone asked her to get refreshments? Philip would magically appear with ones already. Someone wanted to talk about Norrington or the ceremony? Philip would eagerly join the conversation and bring it to a grinding halt when he constantly made the suitor explain the simplest things. Philip drove away the last one when he pretended to just simply not grasp the concept of what exactly a Commodore was.

And if a suitor just didn't give up? Philip would start talking about religion. Usually the suitor would suddenly find he had something else to do and depart swiftly. Sometimes they wouldn't even bother with an excuse before they ran. It bugged Philip that people showed such a disdain for the word of the Lord, but at least it worked.

It was a system the cousins had used for years, and it went both ways. Elizabeth was more than happy to help when one of Philip's admirers got overzealous. And as the rich and handsome nephew of the Governor of Port Royal,  _boy_  did some of them get overzealous.

The closeness of the cousins was a widely known fact in Port Royal. In fact, they were so close that some townsfolk had come up with the rumour that Philip intended to marry Elizabeth, as this was a time where cousin marriage wasn't exactly frowned upon. However, the cousins had laughed so hysterically upon hearing the rumour that the suspicions were quickly dispelled.

Yes, Elizabeth dearly loved Philip, but never in that way. Philip was her cousin by blood, but her brother by heart. Of course, Elizabeth would fiercely assess any woman who tried to become romantic with Philip. It would take a very special person to receive the blessing of Elizabeth Swann.

But at the end of the day, Elizabeth knew exactly how Philip's life would turn out. As much as he claimed to desire adventure, Elizabeth recognized that it was a passion that would fizzle out. Philip would play missionary for two or three years, and then realize that wasn't the life he wanted. He would live the fantasy of playacting his father, and then return to Port Royal with no regrets. Philip would find a pure, pretty, demure girl to become his wife. She would probably be petite, blonde, and named something like Hannah or Abigail. Philip would become Port Royal's Pastor and settle in a small cottage overlooking a cliff.

And he would probably raise a few sheep... Elizabeth had actually put money on that with Lieutenant Groves.

No, Philip's future was as predictable as her own. Someday soon, one of the suitors would actually work up the nerve to propose to Elizabeth. She'd be reluctant and stall as long as possible. Philip would head off to his mission and leave Elizabeth defenceless. After months of her father's insistence and Philip's absence, Elizabeth would crack and say yes. Then she would spend the rest of her life trapped in a loveless marriage and never going on the adventures at sea she so desired.

Elizabeth just prayed that such a day was far off.

"Pardon me," Norrington interrupted Elizabeth as her dance with Philip came to an end. The Commodore looked both nervous and confident as he extended an arm to Elizabeth. "May I have a moment?"

Elizabeth shot a look to Philip that clearly read,  _ **'help me.'**_

He hesitated for a second, but felt Weatherby Swann's eyes on them. Philip knew that Elizabeth would reject the Commodore, so he might as well let the get it over with rather that have it happen  _and_  have his uncle lecture him later that night.

He smiled apologetically at Elizabeth, and she glared daggers at him.

"Of course," Elizabeth took Norrington's arm, putting on her all too familiar societal pleasantries mask.

As Norrington led Elizabeth off, Philip couldn't help but trail them at a distance. When Elizabeth and Norrington passed through the archway leading to the fort's bell, Philip lingered behind a pillar to watch. He was torn between hoping the rejection would be humorous and the fear that Norrington wouldn't take it well. Not that Norrington wasn't an honourable man and if he wasn't, he certainly wouldn't attempt anything at such a public event.

Philip was caught up watching as Norrington began speaking about his promotion, when a hand clasped his shoulder. Philip nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"Maybe you should leave them be," Weatherby chuckled at his startled nephew. "I know it's a big moment in Elizabeth's life, but there are some things that should stay private."

"I much agree uncle," Philip replied when his heart rate had returned to normal. He side eyed his cousin and the Commodore, looking for some excuse to stay. "However, Elizabeth was complaining about feeling light-headed, and I wanted to make sure she didn't fall down. She is standing on the edge of a cliff after all."

Weatherby chuckled, "Oh, Philip. You have your mother's imagination. I suppose if the Commodore has elected to do this in such a public venue, he should expect some eyes turned on them. Just promise me you won't interfere."

"I promise."

Philip gave a sigh of relief as his uncle walked away. The minister-to-be chuckled as he glanced at Elizabeth. Sure, the dress was tight, the sun was hot, and her fan was beating ever harder, but Philip knew Elizabeth wasn't about to fall off a cliff.

So he was greatly surprised when she did.

Philip's jaw dropped as his heartbeat stopped. He was frozen with shock. Had Elizabeth truly gone over the cliff?

Norrington said nothing because he had yet to notice. The Commodore's back had been turned when Elizabeth fell.

Philip could think of no words, only one action.

_Save Elizabeth._

Philip bolted, tearing rudely through the startled crowd, thinking only of his cousin drifting to the ocean floor. The governor's nephew running through the reception like a madman caught everyone's attention, and started a commotion.

As he reached the exit, someone roughly grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to a stop.

"Philip!" Weatherby exclaimed, looking rather red from chasing after his nephew. "What is going on?"

"Elizabeth... Cliff...  _Fell!_ " Philip panted, unable to think of any other words.

"Philip, relax. I think you've had too much sun. Come. Let's getting you in the shade, and get you a cool drink."

"No!" Philip jerked out of his uncle's grasp. "Elizabeth went over the cliff!"

Weatherby shook his head, "Philip, Elizabeth didn't-"

"ELIZABETH!" came Norrington's roar.

As Weatherby's attention was drawn in horrified disbelief to where his daughter had previously stood, Philip escaped.

Philip ran faster than he thought himself capable. Muttering words to the Lord, he prayed that God's plan for Elizabeth was not about to come to an end. Philip knew that the docks weren't as well guarded as usual due to the ceremony. It was also common knowledge that many naval officers in Port Royal didn't know how to swim. There was a very real possibility that no one could save his cousin. Even at that moment Elizabeth could very well be dead, but still Philip ran.

Reaching the dock, Philip didn't think as he began stripping his clothes. He tossed aside his belt containing sword and bible. His hat went clattering at the feet of the two naval officers yelling something to him. Philip yanked off his jacket, ripping off a few buttons in the process. He barely noticed when a huge ripple jutted through the water and the wind began to blow oddly.

Philip didn't think; he just dove into the water.

The second he hit the cold ocean water, an eccentric looking man surfaced with Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth!" Philip cried out, swimming over to meet them.

For a moment Elizabeth and the man went back under. When they came back up Elizabeth was in only her underclothes, and the grand dress Weatherby had spent a fortune on was sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

"Oi!" the eccentric man called as he struggled to balance Elizabeth and paddle toward the dock. "Help me get her on deck!"

Reaching the man, Philip helped shoulder Elizabeth and tow her to the dock. The two men lifted her onto the planks, and Philip pulled himself onto the deck beside her.

"Elizabeth," Philip whispered helplessly at her side, his hands tenderly holding her face. He had never seen his cousin so pale and still. He never imagined Elizabeth Swann ever being described as still. "Come on. You're alright. Please, God, let her be alright. Merciful Lord, do not take her away from me."

"She's not breathing!" one of the officers pulled Elizabeth's hair out of her face.

Tears shook in Philip's eyes as he bowed his forehead to Elizabeth's and whispered desperate prayers to God to save his more sister than cousin.

"Move!" the eccentric man forced his way between the officers to get to Elizabeth. He considered shoving Philip aside, but the man could see how desperate the boy was, bent forward, clutching her head to his and saying pleas to the Lord Almighty like Gibbs did whenever faced with certain death. The boy wasn't in the way, so the man let him be.

The man pulled out a knife, and before anyone could stop him, ripped the blade through Elizabeth's expensive corset. The puritan part of Philip struggled not to tackle the man for such an obscene action. However, joy overtook Philip when Elizabeth gasped, coughing the water out of her lungs.

Any angry words were quickly replaced by glories to the Lord God for his mercy.

"It's alright," Philip happily held his cousin's face as she regained her breath. He would praise the Lord exceptionally that night for his blessings. "It's alright, Elizabeth. I'm here. You're safe. Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you for saving Elizabeth."

"Philip?" she moaned, trying to make sense of the world. She smiled weakly as her cousin's face came into focus above her. Nothing would have made her happier in that moment than to see Philip's joyous face in that moment.

Well… maybe if it Will Turner there instead.

"Where did you get that?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

It was an odd looking man with suntanned skin, kohl caked around his eyes, and dirty black hair filled with charms and covered by a red bandana. He held the gold medallion she stole from Will Turner all those years ago looking utterly flabbergasted.

Philip frowned at the strange piece of jewelry his cousin was wearing. He very much too would have liked to know where she had gotten a large, gold, Aztec looking medallion bearing a skull. And more importantly, Philip wanted to know why so had such heathenish jewelry.

Lord help him if it had been a gift from his mother.

But Philip would not get his answer at that time, for that was the moment Norrington, Weatherby, and nearly half the naval officers of Port Royal arrived at the dock.

Without a second's hesitation, Norrington pointed his sword at the eccentric man and ordered, "On your feet."

As the man slowly rose to his feet, Philip pulled Elizabeth to hers, hugging her tight. She hastily stuffed the medallion down the neckline of her undergarments.

"Later," she murmured as Weatherby came running up to his children.

Philip nodded, and he and Elizabeth were pulled into Weatherby's embrace.

"Are you alright?" Weatherby pulled off his jacket and covered Elizabeth's indecent state.

"She's fine, Uncle," Philip hugged Elizabeth shoulders tight. As confused as Philip was about the medallion, he was still happy she was alive.

Weatherby caught sight of the naval officer holding Elizabeth's corset. The officer looked shocked as his situation registered in his mind and quickly pointed to the eccentric man.

"Shoot him!" Weatherby ordered.

"Uncle!" Philip chastised, ready with a lecture about sin and loving thy neighbour.

"Father!" Elizabeth cut Philip off before he could start.

"What?" Weatherby directed his question to Elizabeth, knowing full well his nephew was prepared to respond with an hour long sermon. While he certainly loved the Lord God, his sister had been the religious fanatic. He did not enjoy dropping biblical references left, right, and center like his sister, and Nathaniel's tendency to  **evangelize with any question asked of him was probably the only thing Weatherby disliked about his brother-in-law.**

"Commodore," Elizabeth turned to Norrington while she pulled her father's jacket around her tight. "Do you really intend to kill my rescuer?"

Norrington glanced at Philip, "Of course not. Mister Swift is an upstanding young gentleman."

"I believe she means me, Mate," the eccentric man said. "The lass' beau was nothing more than a glorified tow line."

"Cousin, actually," Philip corrected. "Elizabeth's my cousin."

"My mistake, Lad," the eccentric man bowed his head. He looked to Norrington, "Now where's my thanks?"

Reluctantly, Norrington sheathed his sword and extended his hand, "I believe you are due."

Hesitantly, the man reached out to take Norrington's hand. He was right to hesitate, for the second their hands grasped, Norrington wrenched the man's arm forward, and yanked up his sleeve to reveal a brand in the shape of a P.

"Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, pirate?" Norrington shot.

At Norrington's revelation, Philip didn't know what he should focus on. At the mention of the EITC, Philip heard his uncle shudder. At the mention of the word pirate, Elizabeth brightened up. Neither thing meant any good.

"Hang him," Weatherby simply said. Most likely as a reaction of not wanting Cutler Beckett to get involved in any of this.

Or seeing Cutler Beckett in general.

His uncle, Philip decided. He would focus on his uncle.

"Keep your guns on him, Men," Norrington ordered and the officers secured their weapons on him. "Gillette, fetch some irons."

"Uncle," Philip implored as Gillette ran off, "please listen. He saved Elizabeth."

"That doesn't absolve him of his crimes." Norrington pulled up the pirate's sleeve further to reveal a tattoo of a bird flying above the water at sunset, "Well, well. Jack Sparrow, isn't it?"

Philip and Elizabeth shared a quick look.

"Jack Sparrow?" Elizabeth whispered, knowing her cousin would recognize it.

Philip couldn't believe that it was  _the_ Jack Sparrow standing before them. Sparrow had been one of the pirates his mother shared stories of with himself and Elizabeth. In fact, it seemed the majority of Rebecca Swift's pirates stories were centered around Sparrow. When Elizabeth was younger and more naïve, she had claimed to have wanted to meet him. Now that she actually had the chance, Philip knew she was not as elated as younger Elizabeth would have expected.

…Or at least, Philip  _hoped_  she wasn't elated.

" _Captain_ Jack Sparrow," Jack corrected, "if you please, Sir."

Norrington arched a brow, "Well, I don't see your ship,  _Captain."_

"Philip," Weatherby whispered.

Philip looked up, wondering when his uncle had managed to sneak up on him. There was disapproving look on his uncle's face... Though that might have just been from the mention of the East India Trading Company.

"Your possessions," Weatherby nodded down the dock where the trail of his disrobing lay.

Philip nodded and rubbed Elizabeth's shoulder before darting off.

As Sparrow and Norrington bantered about the pirate's effects, Philip collected his own. He winced as he picked up his bible. How could he have so carelessly thrown aside his beloved father's bible? Even if it was to save Elizabeth.

"Pirate or not, this man saved my life," Elizabeth said as Gillette returned to bind Sparrow in irons.

Collecting his last item – the sword belt – Philip rose and tied it around his waist as he observed the scene. He noted with disapproval that Elizabeth had shed her father's jacket and was now parading around the dock uncaringly in her undergarments.

Weatherby didn't look thrilled at that development either.

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness," Norrington replied to Elizabeth, respectfully ignoring the fact she was so improperly covered.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack pointed out.

"Indeed," Norrington shot the pirate a look.

Feeling sympathetic to Sparrow's cause, Philip began flipping through his bible to mount a defense on behalf of the pirate. As much of a struggle it would be, even this pirate's soul could be redeemed.

"Finally," Jack suddenly threw the chain of his irons around Elizabeth's neck and pulled her violently against him.

"No!" Philip cried out the same time as his uncle.

The crowd surged forward, and the guns set hard on Jack and Elizabeth.

"No!" Weatherby shouted. "Don't shoot!"

"I knew you'd warm up to me," Jack smirked to Elizabeth.

Philip shoved his bible back in its holder, and withdrew his sword. Forget saving the pirate, Philip needed to save Elizabeth.

He pointed out the blade, trying to look as heroic as possible. However, based on the snickering behind him, Philip felt like he wasn't exactly achieving such an effect.

"Withdraw, Philip," Weatherby ordered his nephew. "He might hurt her."

"Based on how he's holding that sword, I'd be more worried about him hurting her," Jack chuckled. "Put the sword away, Son. You're only embarrassing yourself."

Philip scowled and sheathed his sword. He'd have to get Will to teach him how to look manly while brandishing it.

"Commodore Norrington, my effects, please." A thought occurred to him, and Jack quickly added, "And my hat."

Philip frowned at James when he made no move to save Elizabeth.

"Commodore," Jack threatened, pulling the chains a little bit tighter.

Even Elizabeth looked scared.

Looking very angry at having to do so, Norrington turned and grabbed the pirate's effects. Everyone watched the Commodore carefully, very aware that Elizabeth could easily lose her life from one wrong move.

Philip closed his eyes and touched the cross around his neck.

"Please, Lord," Philip murmured a prayer, eyes slipping back open, "see Elizabeth safe from this pirate's grasp, and bring an end to this day that has been so threatening to her life."

"It is Elizabeth, isn't it?" Jack asked.

"It's Miss Swann," Elizabeth practically growled. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to see why her father disliked pirates so much.

"Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind," Jack said as Norrington hesitated who to give the effects to. "Come, come, dear. We don't have all day."

Norrington thrust the pirate's possessions into Elizabeth's grasp. Sparrow spun Elizabeth around so he was in an inappropriately close embrace, and in perfect mirror to each other, Philip and Weatherby forced themselves to look away.

"Now if you'll be very kind," Sparrow directed Elizabeth.

As Elizabeth was forced to hold herself close to the pirate, Philip shared a chagrined look with his uncle. Philip couldn't help but murmur a quick prayer about Elizabeth's virtue.

He was only able to get himself through the moment by picturing how Will Turner might have reacted to the scene. Philip couldn't stop a small grin as he imagined Will expertly dueling the pirate. It certainly would never happen, but hypothetically would be a good show.

"Easy on the goods, Darling," Jack advised as Elizabeth shoved his compass onto his belt.

"You're despicable," Elizabeth seethed at the man she once would have been so excited to see.

"Sticks and stones, Love," Jack replied. "I saved your life. You save mine. We're square."

Sparrow spun Elizabeth back around, and held the pistol to her neck. Slowly he began to walk them backwards. The group of soldiers and Swanns followed carefully, but Philip couldn't take his mind off the worry that someone would accidentally harm Elizabeth. One accidental shot aimed for Sparrow could become a great tragedy.

Boldly, Philip darted in front of his uncle and Norrington. Thankfully, Jack didn't make any sudden movements. In fact, the pirate grinned. He seemed delighted that Philip had pulled in front of the group.

"Gentlemen." Jack nodded to Elizabeth as he slowly led them backwards, "Milady. You will always remember this as the day that you  _almost_  caught Captain Jack Sparrow."

Like a flash, Jack pulled the chains off Elizabeth, and Philip realised too late why Jack wanted him in the way. Sparrow shoved Elizabeth directly into Philip, knocking both cousins hard – Philip on his back and Elizabeth on Philip – crashing onto the deck.

As Sparrow ran for a hanging rope, Norrington, Weatherby, and a few officers stumbled over the not yet recovered cousins.

"Pain," Philip groaned as Norrington pushed off himself and Elizabeth. "So many things hurt."

The group had just barely got to their feet when the raised cannon crashed through the deck. Sparrow went flying up high, and swung around to escape.

"Now will you shoot him?" Weatherby yelled as he and Philip held Elizabeth protectively.

"Open fire!" Norrington hollered.

As Norrington's men began attacking, Sparrow made another daring escape that would travel the seas in legend. Philip pulled Elizabeth away from the excitement, forcing her to take cover with him behind s pole.

"Philip, let me go!" Elizabeth struggled as her cousin held her back.

"Oh no," Philip refused. "You've already had two near-death experiences that day. I'm not about to let it be third times' a charm."

Elizabeth groaned loudly and rolled her eyes as they watched Sparrow escape.

"You know," Elizabeth said after a minute, "Aunt Rebecca was right. He really is a marvel to watch in action."

Philip looked at her in shock, "You mean you've just been taken hostage by him, and forced to touch him in ways you should only touch the man you have bound your soul to in Lord blessed matrimony, and you  _still_ are enamored with him?"

"What can I say? I've always wanted to meet a pirate."

"Lord Almighty, give me strength."

When Sparrow had long been gone, Philip finally allowed the cousins to emerge.

"There you are," Weatherby said in relief. He hugged his daughter and clasped his nephew's shoulder. "I'm glad you both are safe."

"Honestly, father," Elizabeth smirked, "you know Philip would never let me do anything daring."

Philip shot his cousin a look, "You just went cliff diving. I'd say that's pretty daring."

"And you came running right after me."

"How do you even know that? You were underwater!"

"Because you always run after me like a puppy, no matter what I do!"

"Oh, please, I don't always-"

"Children!" Weatherby snapped.

"Sorry, Sir," Elizabeth and Philip said automatically in perfect unison. They looked at each other and smirked.

Weatherby just shook his head, "Unfortunately, I must go to the Fort and sign a few things for Sparrow's execution tomorrow-"

"If they catch him," Elizabeth pointed out.

Weatherby shot her a look, "Philip. Take Elizabeth home."

"But Father!" Elizabeth objected.

"But nothing!" Weatherby snapped. "You've have more than enough excitement today. I'll tell you what becomes of the pirate when we are all safely back in our Manor. Now return to the carriage, and go straight home."

* * *

"This is completely unfair!" Elizabeth pouted as she and Philip rode through town toward the rich end of town and their towering mansion. "Finally something exciting happens in this port, and  _we_  have to go home."

"Elizabeth," Philip groaned sitting across from her, head slumped against the wall, "after the stress of you falling off a cliff, trying to go save you, you almost dying, you getting taken hostage by a pirate, and having your maybe fiancé fall on top of me, I want nothing more than to go home, take a hot bath, do my daily devotions, and be done with this day."

"Well, it's not my fault you have no sense of adventure. Honestly with parents like yours, how did you end up so straight laced?"

"Your father raised me. The only real wonder is how you got so adventurous. You know if we weren't born eighteen months apart and different genders, I'd suspect we'd been switched at birth."

Elizabeth sighed and laid back against the wall of the carriage, "Where do you think the pirate went?"

"I have no idea, Elizabeth," Philip yawned, exhaustion setting in. He gave Elizabeth a lazy smile, relief at her safety overtaking him. He shifted over to sit on her side of the carriage, wrapping an arm around her, holding her like a promise that nothing else would come to harm her that day. When Elizabeth automatically bowed her head against his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and his smile grew larger.

"Well, let's think then, Dear Cousin," Elizabeth had a playful hitch to her voice. "He couldn't have gone far wearing those irons. He'd have to find someplace to get them off."

"A blacksmith would be the best bet."

"Yes, I suppose it would."

They had a blissful moment of silence, reveling in the comfort of each other.

It hit them at the same time.

"Will!" they yelled.

"Stop the carriage!" Elizabeth sat up and called up to the driver.

"No!" Philip ordered back. " _Don't_ stop the carriage."

"Philip," Elizabeth looked at him in shock, "Will could be in danger. We have to go help him!"

"Elizabeth, Norrington is a smart man. If we figured out Sparrow would go to the blacksmith, then Norrington will too."

"But what if he doesn't get there in time? What if Will's forced to face the pirate on his own?"

"Uh…" Philip looked down at the sword in his lap. "Something tells me that Will is fine on his own."

"Well, I can't take that chance! Driver! Stop the carriage!"

The carriage slowed to a halt and Elizabeth threw open the door.

"Elizabeth, stop!" Philip yelled as she scampered out. "Elizabeth, you're not going to run through town in your undergarments to face a pirate, and-"

Philip let out a strangled cry as Elizabeth ran off.

"Lord, why must you test me with such a frustrating cousin?" Philip lifted his eyes upward. He growled again and barrelled out of the carriage, running after her, "Elizabeth, wait for me!"

The Governor's children got many funny looks as they ran through town. Philip was less concerned with gossip - or even Sparrow - but rather feared that they would get caught by one of Norrington's officers. This was a situation Philip really didn't want to get a lecture from his uncle for.

"Come on!" Elizabeth came to a skidding stop in front of the blacksmith shop. She pulled at the door, but it didn't open. "It's stuck!"

"Let me try," Philip pulled the handle, but it didn't nudge an inch. Frowning, Philip pressed his ear to the door, "Listen."

Elizabeth copied her cousin, and they heard the faint clanking of metal.

"Maybe Will's just working?" Philip suggested.

Elizabeth didn't buy it, "Then why would the door be locked?"

Philip wracked his brain for a reasonable answer, "It's a hot day, and Will works next to a fire… Maybe he's shirtless and doesn't want people to see?"

Suddenly, Elizabeth looked very eager to get into the shop.

"Elizabeth, leave it," Philip grabbed her arm as she tried yanking on the door again. "This is madness! We have no proof that Will's in there fighting a pirate."

It was at that moment they heard Will's voice yell from behind the door, "I practice three hours a day, so that when I meet a pirate, I can kill it!"

Philip stared at the door, gobsmacked at the timing.

Elizabeth smirked at him, "Need more proof, cousin?"

He rolled his eyes, "Come on!"

"Where are you going?" Elizabeth called as Philip ran down the street.

"To get Will some help!" Philip answered.

He ran through the street, hoping Elizabeth wasn't following. Maybe he could hide the fact Elizabeth had joined him- Or to be truthful, that Philip's visit to Will to see if the blacksmith's apprentice was fighting a pirate was Elizabeth's idea in the first place. Elizabeth didn't need to get into any more trouble today, and that nugget of knowledge would not go over well with Weatherby Swann.

Luckily, the officer that Philip found was someone friendly to the cousins.

Philip ran up to the man, "Groves!"

Groves frowned at the Governor's nephew, "Mister Swift? What are you-"

"We- I mean,  _I_ found the pirate! Come on, he's in Mister Brown's shop!"

"Men, follow me!" Groves ordered a few officers, and one ran to the Fort to bring Norrington and the Governor word.

The officers stormed down the street until they reached the blacksmith shop where Elizabeth was still desperately trying to get the door open.

" _You_ found the pirate?" Groves asked Philip suspiciously.

Philip shrugged, "It was a group effort."

"They're still fighting!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

" _They_?" Groves asked.

"William Turner's in there with Sparrow," Philip explained. "We think he's trying to hold the pirate off."

"The boy must have a death wish," Groves shook his head. He turned to the other officers, "Come on, Men! Let's get this door open!"

Philip and Elizabeth watched nervously as the men tried to bash the door open.

"What if they don't get there in time?" Elizabeth worried.

"They'll get it open," Philip assured her.

"Philip?" Elizabeth had an odd look on her face. "What did Will means he practices three hours a day? What does he practice?"

"Uh…"

"You two are supposed to be home!"

The cousins looked up in shock as Weatherby Swann came storming down the street with Norrington and Gillette.

"Uncle," Philip put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I can explain."

"It's my fault," Elizabeth confessed. "I thought Sparrow might go after Will-  _Mister Turner_ , and I wanted to make sure he was safe. Philip had no choice but to follow."

"Thankfully your hunch is correct," Norrington tried not to sound too displeased. "I'll take it from here. Is the door almost down?"

"Unfortunately not," Groves reported. "Whatever the pirate did to block it, it's effective."

Philip couldn't help but remember the six months Will had practiced sword throwing last year.

"We need to get into the smith!" Norrington snapped.

"Has anyone tried the back way?" Philip asked.

Everyone looked at him.

"There's a back way?" Groves looked confused.

Philip sighed, wondering how he had suddenly become the smart one, "Follow me."

As Gillette continued to have the officers batter at the door, Philip led Norrington, Groves, Weatherby – and to his uncle's objection – Elizabeth down the street and into the back alley. He carefully counted the shops until he came to the smith.

"Will showed me where he hid the key," Philip produced one from under a well placed rock.

Norrington took the key, and gestured for Groves to cover him and the others to stay back. On the count of three, Norrington opened the door, and the group came barreling into the smith, ready for a fight.

Though the clanging of metal continued, neither Will nor Sparrow appeared to be in the shop.

"There!" Elizabeth suddenly called, pointing up at the rafters.

"My word!" Weatherby cried as the group looked up in amazement.

Will was expertly dueling Sparrow. It appeared neither the blacksmith nor the pirate had noticed the entrance of the group, completely absorbed in the massively impressive duel.

"Get the rest," Norrington ordered Groves.

Groves nodded and raced out the shop to get the rest of the officers.

Philip, Elizabeth, and Weatherby watched in awe at the duel. Will drove Sparrow back hard and easily overpowered the pirate, all while maintaining his balance as he wove through the rafters.

As Groves returned with the other officers, Will disarmed Sparrow. Will grinned at the pirate, and Sparrow jumped down from the rafters. The blacksmith's apprentice followed, only to stop short when he saw the shop filled with Navy officers, the Governor and his children watching in shock – Philip grinning widely and Elizabeth in her undergarments for some reason – and James Norrington with a pistol pointed at Sparrow's head.

"Not one move, Sparrow," Norrington warned. "Gillette, Groves take the prisoner."

Jack scowled as the two men clapped him in irons again. Only this time, they knew better than to let him go.

Norrington smiled at Sparrow, "I trust you will always remember this is the day that Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped. Take him away."

As the officers led out the pirate, Will suddenly became very aware of how underdressed he was compared to the formal wear everyone else had donned… except Elizabeth. Will was careful to avert his eyes from her state of undress. There were far too many weapons around and men who would love to use them on Will for him to even consider daring to take a glance.

"Mister Turner?" Norrington caught the blacksmith apprentice's attention as the officers began filing out. He holstered his pistol, "Excellent work. You've assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive."

Will bowed his head, "Just doing my duty, Commodore."

"That was more than just duty," Weatherby Swann stared at Will like he was a new man. Almost like one would like at a King or a figure of legend. "That swordsmanship, where did you learn it?"

"I taught myself," Will admitted. "I…I'm always worried that the swords we make aren't strong enough, so I started testing them. I suppose I picked up a few things."

"So that's what you were talking about practicing three hours a day," Elizabeth said.

"Three hours a day?" Norrington repeated in shock.

Weatherby chuckled, "Well, I suppose if you're practicing that much, you would pick up-"

His words stopped dead.

"Three hours a day?" Weatherby shot Philip a look. " _Self taught?_ "

Philip's eyes widened as he remembered what he had said to his uncle earlier that day.

"Uncle," Philip calmly said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Please-"

"You are  _not_ learning to swordfight from a  _blacksmith_!" Weatherby snapped.

"But you've seen how good he is!"

"It doesn't matter," Weatherby shook his head, ignoring Will who had his head awkwardly lowered. "I understand that Turner is your friend, but he has no real world experience."

"No real world experience?" Elizabeth muttered, "He  _just_ fought a pirate."

"Enough." Weatherby eyed both of his children harshly. "Philip will be taught properly, and that is the end of this discussion!"

"But-" Philip started.

"The Governor is right," Norrington interrupted. "We should bring this conversation to an end. This is a discussion best left for private, and we have much to do."

"Thank you, Commodore," Weatherby smiled at the man he hoped to be his son-in-law. "Philip, you will take Elizabeth home  _now_ , and no stops on the way this time. Understood?"

"She's the one who brought me here," he pointed at his cousin.

"Traitor," she muttered.

"I asked if I was understood," Weatherby snapped. He winced slightly. He hated how much that tone made him sound like his cruel father.

"Understood." Philip hung his head, "Bye Will."

"Goodbye Philip," Will replied. He looked to Elizabeth, something confident growing in his eyes, "Good day… Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled at the blacksmith and took her cousin's arm, "Good day, Will."

"Miss Swann," Norrington stopped the cousins. "A word first?"

Elizabeth looked nervously at him, "Of course."

Norrington took a nervous breath, trying to ignore the eyes of Philip Swift and William Turner on him, "I understand that today has been rather eventful, but I still have yet to receive an answer to my offer."

Elizabeth glanced at Will, "Um… Commodore, the day had intend been eventful. My apologies, but I need some time to sort out all that has happened."

"Take as much time as you need. Good day, Miss Swann. Governor?"

Weatherby shot a look at his children, "You two had better be home when I return."

"Yes, Uncle."

"Yes, Father."

"Good. Now, let us depart Commodore."

The four headed to exit the smith but before Philip could leave, Will grabbed his arm.

"Offer?" Will questioned in a low voice.

Philip sighed and looked over at the waiting Elizabeth.

"Norrington," Philip told his friend, "…has proposed to Elizabeth."

And Philip left without looking back at Will.

He couldn't bear to see his friend's heart break.


End file.
